


In Which a Sturdy Table Finds Use

by EasyTangent



Category: Parasol Protectorate - Gail Carriger
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Canon Relationship, Fade to Black, Gay Male Character, M/M, POV Third Person, Victorian, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 19:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EasyTangent/pseuds/EasyTangent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly after the end of the series, a visit is made to London.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which a Sturdy Table Finds Use

**Author's Note:**

  * For [k8 (paintedmaypole)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintedmaypole/gifts).



> Spoilers for _Timeless_.

It was, like many nights, a touch chill walking along the street. Not that he had much care for such a thing, being amongst the undead.

And really, it was nothing like the levels of chill, damp, and foggy which permeated Scotland. At least Scotland did not have the bouquet of people en mass, and all that entailed. The scents out on the Highlands were delightful in themselves and in comparison: harts and hares along with wild vegetation and deep waters.

London was not the Scottish Highlands. It was full of humans, full of life, and of a distinct overabundance of soul. The city was filled with those whose glut was directed into the arts, or great inventions. The soul created many things of delight.

The vampires took that to mean that after changing the category of living, there was nothing left to be done save acquire those who did pondering and creating, and add them to their assuredly spotless collections.

While the process of dying did cause a great poverty of soul, and the creative process, he mused to himself as he walked that there were some in whom even death would not stop their talents, and their want to create.

Formerly Lefoux had been known to aid her brilliant niece from time to time. The alpha werewolf hat-maker was nearly realm-famous by now for his efforts. The new vampire queen in London was infamous for insisting on the creation of a theatre in her hive so that she might continue to act. He himself had his studies into the procreation habits of sheep.

It was all much subdued in comparison to what they might have done prior to their first death, but the soul was a resilient thing it seemed.

He turned his steps towards a door off the street where he knew one of the other still-creative undead would be. Opening the door to the shop, he saw it was empty save the proprietor, likely as it was getting close to the dawn hour. Most who frequented the shop's evening hours would be returning to their homes at this time of night.

The shopkeeper was mostly hidden by his merchandise. Hats hanging from the ceiling obstructed the view of the man's head. Searching what he could see, he saw that proprietor's blue cravat was a near match for the colour he knew the man's eyes to be. Tied in an oriental knot, it sat above a dashing jacket which was cut to show off a trim waist. The pants led down the man's long legs to leather shoes which were slowly winding through displayed hats on display boxes. As the man's head came from around the last of the hats, a head of wavy dark brown hair appeared.

“Hello, Lyall.”

The newly arrived man's lips quirked up in a small but warm smile at the greeting.

“Biffy.”

There was a fleet moment as the two men stared at each other across the span of few stride of hardwood. But that tableau was replaced with the two men embracing intensely in the blink of an eye, for werewolves are a spry group of beings.

Breathing deeply amongst their entwined arms and bodies, the two men were quite the contrast. Both dressed flawlessly, more so than any other of their kind. The usual shabby or unkempt aura which normally pervaded the shapeshifters was not to be found between them. If not for a myriad of other reasons, that they alone of their brethren could keep their clothes, from their hats to their shoes in neat order would have bound them together.

They drew apart slightly, but Biffy kept his left hand joined to Lyall's right as he moved towards the shop door. Turning the sign to, “Closed for the Day,” he then turned the lock and then drew Lyall deeper into the shop, past many, many fashionable hats for discerning ladies.

The two men arrived behind the counter where an innocuous part of the wall slipped away at a touch, and the two men walked into Lefoux's ascension machine. Going down into the earth, the two men exited into a large chamber beneath the shop.

“I hate to ask, due to how this being a lovely surprise of a visit, and not wanting to ruin it with unpleasant talk, but does the Alpha know you are here?”

Looking into Lyall's eyes, Biffy saw a brief discomfort pass before the sandy-haired man replied. “He is aware.” A brief pause more yielded, “I will actually be seeing him; it is the main reason for my visit to the city. Alexia believes enough time has passed that it may be beneficial for him to see me. I am to call tomorrow eve.”

“No wonder he's been in a mood recently.”

“Likely, yes. That or the Potentate is being himself.”

That got a quick bark of laughter from Biffy. “Scotland is bring out your jocularity. The lady would not approve. And that the Alpha and... the Potentate have been able to live in proximity peaceably so far has been a minor miracle. The child makes thing easier, I think, rather than more difficult. They have a shared love in her.”

Separating from each other after clearing up the unpleasant business, Lyall began to poke around at the material on the tables. Biffy had set up a bit of a workshop where Lefoux used to have her laboratory. The tables were well away from the werewolf transformation cages. No sense in getting good material covered in anything accidentally flung from behind the bars.

On the table before him, Lyall ran his hands over some tartan. “What are you planning to do with this? I can't imagine a lot of English ladies are looking to take up Scottish fashions.”

Coming over to join Lyall at the table, Biffy declared, “Gracious, no. However, I am able to make more than ladies' hats. I thought I might try my hand at a kilt.”

Slightly raising his eyebrows as he looked back at the dark-haired man, Lyall asked, “And why would you be doing that, young Biffy?”

“The way I hear it, the traditional garb of a Scotsman might help you fit in up there.”

“Nothing I wear would help me fit in as a Scotsman of Kingair. The accent is quite distinctive.”

“Still, no harm in trying it out, don't you think? Take in the local culture and all that. And the way I understand it, you don't need to wear anything under it,” Biffy said with cheer as he pressed into Lyall and Lyall in turn pressed into the table. “Imagine! Not wearing underclothes. It is very practical for quick transformations, I would think.”

“Practical for other quick activities, I should think, too. Not that time is a concern right now.”

Pushing Lyall back onto the table, and then leaning over the vulpine man, he throatily ground out, “We have all day.”

 


End file.
